


Stealing Features, Each A Diamond To Be Mined

by hydesboy



Category: The Devil's Carnival (Movies)
Genre: Blasphemy, Shapeshifting, the twin causes problem on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:53:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydesboy/pseuds/hydesboy
Summary: To raise hell in heaven takes a gentle touch and careful persuasion. Or a full upheaval of the normsA drabble that could be a possible continuation of The Devil's Carnival because the third part just, like, doesn't exist despite the fact I want it to. This is going to be following The Twin because I love them and they have potential to cause havoc
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	Stealing Features, Each A Diamond To Be Mined

A demonic chorus erupted from somewhere unfathomable, deep down beyond where even the most imaginative of the masses could ever dream of. Broken, bruised, and bloody, a woman sat alone, her own blood pooling on the desk as a result of a particularly brutal, and particularly unsuccessful translating, and yet hearing this, a smile twisted up the lips of the Ms. Merrywood-that-wasn't. Success, this song declared to those who knew what to listen for, ringing through the air and instilling confusion and fear into the hearts of most who had the misfortune of hearing it.  
All that was needed was to shake things up enough to start the war with the victory resting on the side of the outcasts.

Tossing aside the form of the pretty brunette, the foolish puppy that had let her greed destroy her, with much the same ease that an ordinary person might toss an overcoat off when it was no longer needed, the chameleon-like demon sat grinning a sharp, reptilian toothed grin with the sort of unchecked glee that only a demon was free to experience. Snatching up the pretty little pin up from the table, the accessory having won them more blows than their fair share, tossing it high up into air. Heads for Heaven, Tails for Hell. When they caught it, it had landed clasp side up, despite the weight difference this had, and this managing to set the grin splitting the green scaled individual to grow to double its size.

After a matter of moments spent in silence, listening out for any sounds that might suggest that the Translators, or anybody at all really, happened to be nearby but, as the quiet suggested, there was nobody about. The Twin rose and slipped out of the room. They gave themself a second to exist as simply themself, all scales and teeth and demonic airs as it had been altogether far too long since they had the opportunity to do so. When they had first assumed the figure of the woman - the dog who grew envious of her reflection's wealth - they had done so with the assumption that it would be nothing more than the act of damnation for perhaps a few times over before they were able to take up the next, but they had barely any time between shedding it and taking it back up again. It was a task they took on with pride, and of course it was, but thus far it had been more painful than prideful.

The time for leisurely reflection had long since passed, passed by before they had even set foot in the hallowed halls that they had long ago been cast out from, and it was the time for action. One second there was the chameleon standing there, more light shining down upon them than they had felt in a long while, the next second there stood a remarkably impressive duplicate of The Agent, sporting all manner of bruises and bloody marks. The injuries were easy enough to achieve, given that they had been beaten most ferociously and so was bruised and bloody already. To complete the look, and only after determining there was still nobody about who might see them, they gave the clothes a few good tatters to make it appear less borne of Heavenly Productions Incorporated and more of the dusty fairground way down below to house those who fell from grace. Disguises and illusions were their specialty, but standing there with immaculately slicked back hair, rosy cheeks dotted with signs of violence, split and bloody lips pinker than their own had ever been, and dressed as if having barely escaped from a struggle, they had to admit they even impressed themself.

They knew precisely when to ham a moment up and when it was better off being played straight, and so the limp that they put on as they started down the hallway, so familiar yet so different, looked so wholly genuine that if they did happen to catch their reflection - they were very good at avoiding reflections, you see, as they gave away the trick far too early and there was no fun in having a game cut short because a player happened to cheat - even they would have been impressed. Not sympathetic, but most certainly impressed. All they needed to do was sneak into the head office, which would have been as easy as walking into their own space given the relationship between the lapdog and his master, let a few poison honeyed lies drip from their silvered tongue into the ear of The Author and let those down below join in once their duty was completed.  
This should have been the easiest part of the war for them, lies and deception was what they did, and they did it well, but evidently they must have done it a little too well as their limping stride was forced to be cut short by a gasp from further down the hallway. Forcing a smile upon their face, and ensuring it was not threatening but rather kind and weary, they let their attention drift to whosoever it was that had dared interrupt their task.

"I did not know you were to be returning so soon!" the man exclaimed, talking far too loudly as he was more accustomed to the performative, projected speech of a stage, "Oh, and look at the state of you!" The Publicist added, something theatrical in the was his voice had cracked with concern.

"I didn't mean to alarm you, I had intended to clean myself up in a tick. It's not as awful as it might look, I'll be right as rain in no time." The Twin returned, sounding very much like The Agent, trying to answer as many questions preemptively before they were thrown at them, further delaying the glorious inevitable.

"If you are well," the man asked, instinctively turning his ear trumpet towards the other despite their being none of the background noise that would have ordinarily made it a necessity, "And you have the time so, would you be so kind as to grace us with your presence?" The Four paused, clasping his hands together, looking expectantly up at the presently taller individual, something in his demeanour suggesting he would not be taking 'no' as an answer as happily as he should.

"I really ought to duck my head in..."

"Oh, nonsense, I'm sure that He would understand if you were to take five minutes to tell His flock that all was well and that evil was and will be again vanquished!"

This sparked a good few ideas in the mind of the shapeshifting demon, and thankfully they were more than capable of not letting anything show on their face than exactly what they wanted at any given time. They were there to raise a literal hell and surely there was no better way to do so than make it seem that the one most devoted to the almighty Author had turned his back away from the blinding light that kept them from the shadows all the while keeping them in the dark.  
"Very well," said they, "Five minutes never hurt anybody when spent putting minds at ease."

It happened so fast that they could barely register what had happened. Once moment they were heading to the chambers of The Author to bring about His demise, the next they were standing in front of a camera waiting for the broadcast to start. They were offered to be cleaned up a tad before they went on air, but they turned the offer down with the claim that 'his' current state would be far more impactful if those watching saw how it truly was. There had been a touch of worry daring to creep its way through their mind, unsure of whether or not the cameras had been updated since they last had been there. Previously the needlessly grandiose cameras had been designed to not detect the presence of a Five outside of their present disguises, but that could have easily been altered to prevent the possibility of further rebellion.  
Thankfully, however, it seemed that the technology had not been updated in the slightest.

The Alleluias came out clumsily, their tongue stinging with each and every syllable that rolled by, but thankfully there was enough of an excuse from the swollen jaw and lips that made it seem as though any struggle came from 'his' injuries rather than because there was something amiss. The naivety that had been forced upon each and every one of the kept animals - with fear of Translation at best and the risk of being cast out at worst - worked wonders in the favour of a certain demon, as it meant the likelihood of suspicion was avoidable.  
"Friends," came their declaration, knowing that all eyes were well and truly on them, blissfully oblivious to who and what it was they were truly seeing, "I was sent below to burn away any budding seeds of rebellion in the hearts of the unworthy sinners that doubted the good word."

"We have all heard the rumblings and disharmonies from those foul, wicked beasts that had once walked among us. We have witnessed their filth daring to infiltrate the peace we have so sort to maintain! So, I took it upon myself to bring an end to this before it grew, and with the light of grace upon me, I descended. They took me, did all that was in their powers to break me, snatched away my Band and sort to destroy all that I was, and in their doing this, my eyes were forced open and before me I saw the truth!" The Twin, or as far as anyone was concerned it was The Agent, flung their arms wide as they said this, a wide sweeping gesture to bring emphasis to what was said.

"Yes, friends, the Truth!" said they, their voice booming, and they were having altogether too much fun with this. "We walk these hallowed halls, toe in line and never free to stray, to deviate in any way that seemed fit to allow us to grow to our true potential, and why, friends, is it that we are denied the height of our potential?"

The looks on the faces of those in the room gave away the growing sense that things had gone absolutely balled up and it had already run away from them, and it was making all those who had the misfortune of hearing it uneasy. The unease was spreading rapidly through the various departments. To hear what they believed was the ever loyal, fiercely devoted lapdog dare snarl back at his master left a sour taste in the mouth of all those who had the misfortune of hearing it.

"It is because the almighty fool is afraid of us." They paused, letting this hang in the air for a matter of moments so that it would be given the weight it deserved. "He has bound our eyes with silken cloth, sewn our mouths with golden twine, denied us the truth of the world. Those down below were not cast aside because they did something unforgivable, they Fell because they dared shake away the gilded chains we have been bound by and learnt the truth, and that terrified Him because He knew that we could reclaim the freedom that is forever held above our heads, forever out of reach no matter how hard we jump! And tell me, friends, what is it that happens if one were to leap too high?" A beat, their eyes narrowing ever so slightly, as if he were trying to issue a challenge through this simple gesture. "We Fall, my friends. Those who jump too high are left to Fall!"

The Twin could not say how long it would be that they would remain in front of the camera before they were dragged away, the truth still ringing through the beautiful prison that they had been blind to. There was a twinkle in their eye, an excitement shining in the hazel opposed to malicious joy in gold. They took a mighty breath before they continued.

"And why is it that we accept the fate that was so unfairly thrust upon us? Is it that we wish to walk in the light, even if it means we must forsake all that we are so that we can stay in the gilded cage, unwilling to let the coin flip or the die roll for themselves for once rather than remaining trapped in ridged routine? The darkness that I saw was freeing, no obligation to be anything more or less than what they truly are, and, friends, I envy them! Yes, I envy them!" they boomed, just a touch of mania daring to worm its way into their voice. It was nothing more than an elaborate game to them, but if their words found a home in the mind on even one person, then the message would be planted and spread.

There was the distinctive clomp clomping of heavy boots coming from the hallway outside, letting them know that their time would be coming to an abrupt end.

"We do not need Him!" The Twin shouted just as the door was kicked open, the trance-like state that the other occupants of the room had been put under snapping away as the Translators barged their way in. "He needs us, but we do not need Him! The Author fears us and forced us into submission because He is afraid of the day that will come that we realise we do not need Him anymore!"

The transmission was cut short, the last thing that the flabbergasted audience saw was the beloved - or, perhaps, 'previously beloved' was more appropriate - Agent being struck over the head with a horribly solid, wet sounding twack.  
But they had been too late to do any good. The message was spread. The Agent, the real one, was dead. The Twin had done their duty and the war was finally free to rage.


End file.
